


En Amoureux

by smilingoceanlover



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, SoSS, Spoilers - En Ami, post episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 14:49:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18471178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilingoceanlover/pseuds/smilingoceanlover
Summary: Filling in the blanks of En Ami.  Set in the SoSS, so Mulder and Scully have not been platonic for some time.





	En Amoureux

“ _I said_ , I’m fine, Mulder.  Call the guys, and I’ll meet you at your apartment at 3pm,” her voice didn’t waiver, it betrayed no emotion.  Click.

 

“Scully!  Scully!” Mulder slammed the phone onto the desk; the force sending the back cover of the phone and then its batteries flying in different directions.  His desk chair immediately followed; sent airborne by arms and legs surging with adrenalin.  It crashed into the coffee table three feet away.  He strode to the apartment door; the sound reverberating down the hallway as it slammed shut.

                                                                                        

It was only 10:13 am.

 

***

 

“Let me in,” commanded Mulder.

 

“Mulder?” Frohike opened the door.  “What are you doing here?”

 

Mulder shoved his way inside.  “I need you to be at my apartment in three hours.”

 

Byers and Langly stared at him, as Frohike came up behind him to take a closer look at his face.  Mulder was out of breath; the sweat dripping down his head and neck, and into his already soaked t-shirt.  “Did you… run here?”  asked Byers, equally confused and alarmed.

 

“Yeah,” said Mulder, and he raised his forearm to his forehead to wipe the sweat away.

 

“From where?” asked Frohike.

 

“Are you ok, Mulder?” added Langly at the same time.

 

“My apartment,” answered Mulder.

 

“But…” stuttered Byers, “You live 12 miles away.”

 

“I have no business being behind the wheel of a car right now,” Mulder responded shortly, his jaw clenching.  “Be at my apartment at 3pm.”

 

Mulder turned around and walked out the door, slamming it just as hard.

 

***

 

The alarm clock on his nightstand read 2:07pm.  Mulder shed his sweat soaked t-shirt, basketball shorts, and boxers one after the other onto the floor as he walked through his bedroom to the bathroom.  He turned the cold tap all the way up and stepped into the shower.  He closed his eyes against the icy stream of water pricking his burning skin like thousands of tiny slivers.  It was only when he felt his teeth start to chatter that he ran the soap up and down his body and rubbed shampoo into his hair, allowing the water to cleanse the sweat away.  His head was pounding.

 

He stood at the mirror afterwards and shaved, forcing his hand to angle the razor down and across the planes of his face.  He did not nick himself.  He swallowed four Advil with a gulp of water straight from the faucet.

 

He drew a black pullover down over his head; pushing the sleeves halfway up his forearms.  He buttoned and zipped the fly of his jeans.  He fastened his watch around his wrist.

 

As he stared at himself in the reflection, the alarm clock displayed 2:52pm.

 

***

 

Scully had a key, and had been letting herself into his apartment for months.  Today she would knock.

 

He opened the door and stepped aside.  Their eyes met and they stared at each other with equal intensity for only seconds.  She walked inside and past him slowly, and he heard her sit down on the couch.  He shut the door, but didn’t follow her.  Instead, he turned and walked into the kitchen.  He leaned forward against the counter, gripping the edges until he felt his fingers bruising.

 

His blood pressure began to lower incrementally as the minutes passed, and he began to hear sounds over the ceaseless rushing of the blood in his ears.

 

She was here now.  She was within the sound of his voice, the touch of his hand.  Bullets fired from his gun could protect her.  The stillness that is Scully, that is all at once weightless and crushing, was blanketing and saturating the air around him.  He was breathing again, evenly and deliberately, grateful for the air filling his lungs; the molecules of oxygen separated away and siphoned into his bloodstream.

 

Another knock at the door.  Byers, Langly, and Frohike stood nervously in the hallway.  Mulder gestured them inside.

 

***

 

Mulder towered in the doorway to the living room, his body filling the open space.  He leaned against his forearms, which were braced at the top and sides of the frame.  He stared straight ahead, unseeing.  He faced the Gunmen’s backs as they leaned forward over their laptops.  The muscles of his jaw clenching, relaxing, clenching as fingers tapped feverishly on keyboards.

 

As far he could tell, Scully had not moved from the spot she had originally taken at the edge of the couch when she had walked in 20 minutes ago.  She was bent forward, her hands clasped in front of her.  In his peripheral vision, he watched as she slowly looked up at him.  His heart beat with vindication when he saw her lick her lips in an expression of nervousness and guilt.  He looked purposefully away, focusing on the Gunmen as they worked.  He bit the inside of his cheek, willing himself not to meet her gaze.

 

“There’s nothing on this,” said Langly.

 

Frohike concurred immediately, “It’s empty.”

 

“Completely,” added Byers, having the good grace to sound somewhat surprised.

 

“No,” said Scully, desperately. “It can’t be.  It can’t be,” she repeated, on her feet now and standing between Frohike and Langly, her eyes darting across the words and numbers on the screens.  “It’s got to be on there.”

 

Mulder watched as Scully slowly straightened, turning to face him as the silence in the room thickened.  He looked her full in the face for the first time and saw the emotions playing across her beautiful features.  Confusion, shock, dismay, guilt, shame – all in equal measure, conspiring together to mock and defame what is bright, and truthful, and good.  These emotions are the ones he cannot bear to see in her face even one at a time, certainly not all at once.  And as their eyes met, the fires of anger and fear set ablaze by her betrayal were suddenly extinguished.  He saw pain.  Scully.  Oh, Scully.

 

***

 

The Gunmen could not have cleared out of Mulder’s apartment faster had they learned that the FBI had obtained warrants for their arrest.

 

Scully had returned carefully to the couch.  Mulder still stood in the doorway.  His position effectively trapping her inside.  She would not be leaving unless he granted permission.  He clenched his jaw again.  Now she felt sparks of anger.  She adjusted the holster on the back of her right hip.  She lifted her chin.

 

“I refuse to accept this, Mulder,” Scully stood up.  “Look, you can either stay here or come with me, but I’m not going to just sit here and have a staring contest.”

 

Mulder considered her words for a full minute.  He then took a deep breath, and stepped out of the doorframe.  He motioned with the barest movement of his head that she should lead the way.

 

***

 

Scully drove to the building that had housed the office she had visited two days before.  Mulder sat beside her.  Neither spoke.

 

She raced up the stairs and ran down the hallway.  Scully didn’t have to see it with her own eyes to know what awaited her.  A long, deserted hallway, ending in an empty office suite.  She could feel the rage sparking in her eyes as she steeled herself for the inevitable confrontation with the man following her.  She whirled around.

 

But Mulder had stopped, resuming his stance in a doorframe.  He waited just outside the room, watching her from the shadows, watching as the truth crashed around her.

 

“He was here!  These were his offices,” Scully said, insistent that he understand.  “What the hell is this?”

 

“He used you.”

 

“Mulder, he laid it all out for me.  I recorded it.  I mailed you the tape.”

 

Mulder’s eyebrows raised, remarking the irony that Scully’s skepticism did not extend to promises made by the devil.

 

***

 

Mulder drove them to Scully’s apartment.  Their conversation limited to mundane logistics of who would drive whom home since they rode together in the same car.  They didn’t speak again.

 

Scully unlocked the door and Mulder followed her inside.  He then walked ahead of her into her bedroom, dropping her overnight bag against the closet door.  He faced the back wall of the room, and didn’t turn around when he heard her enter and sit down on the edge of the bed.  He listened as she removed her jacket, and slipped the shoes from her feet.

 

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, Scully,” Mulder gritted his teeth over the words.

 

Scully stilled, waiting.

 

“Did he hurt you,” Mulder’s voice was low, powerful, weaponized.

 

She weighed the consequences of her answer carefully, before stating: “I don’t think so.”

 

“You don’t think so,” Mulder repeated in a monotone, still staring at the wall in front of him.

 

“I… no… I mean… not the way you’re thinking.”

 

“And what way is that, Scully,” Mulder’s voice lowered even further.

 

“He didn’t touch me.  I’m … well… I don’t think he did.”

 

“But you’re not sure,” Mulder’s hands were balled into fists now.

 

“I am fairly certain he drugged me.  Put something into my drink as we were driving.  But I think it was to disorient me so that I didn’t know where I was, where he had taken me,” said Scully.  “I do not believe I was assaulted.”

 

“If you were drugged, Scully, how do you know,” Mulder said.  And it was in this moment that Mulder knew he would kill the fucking son of a bitch.  He did not know when, he could not imagine the circumstances, but C.G.B. Spender was going to die.

 

“When I woke up yesterday morning… I was in a house, in a bed, in my pajamas.  I had my underwear on from the day before,” Scully paused.  “I checked it.  And then I checked myself.”

 

Mulder clenched his fists to his sides.

 

Scully continued, “I did a basic pelvic exam on myself, Mulder.  There were no signs of vaginal trauma, no external redness or bruising.  There was no ejaculate on or inside me.  There was no evidence of any ejaculate in my underwear either.”

 

Mulder dropped his head to study the floor.  His lips pursed as he swallowed against the bile rising in his throat.  “He … he could have… you could have been bathed, Scully.  He could have … he could have cleaned you in some way.” He gasped for breath again and blurted out, “He could have used a condom.”

 

Scully took a deep breath.  “I can’t be sure, Mulder.  But I don’t think so.  I… I know I should have gone straight to a hospital and ordered a rape kit.  But I didn’t.  I put myself into an unbelievably dangerous situation.  I was completely vulnerable.  I made a horrible, horrible mistake.”

 

It was her admission that he was right and she was wrong that sent him over the cliff.  “GOD DAMN IT, SCULLY,” Mulder yelled, spinning around to face her.  “GOD DAMN IT, I DESERVE A FUCKING ANSWER!”

 

“An answer, Mulder?!”  This was currency that Scully could trade in.  “What kind of an answer do you think you deserve from me, exactly?” as her own voice rose in volume.

 

“The fact that you actually asked that question, Scully, may be the most honest you’ve ever been with me.”

 

As soon as the words left his mouth, Mulder wished he could take them back.  He watched each one fly like a dagger toward her.  He rushed forward, realizing as he did so that there was no way he could reach her in time to block the shots from hitting their mark.

 

She stepped away from him, and to the door of her bedroom.

 

“Goodbye, Mulder,” and her voice sounded exactly like it did on the phone at 10:13am.  Unwavering, devoid of all emotion.

 

“Scully…”

 

“I’m not going to do this right now, Mulder.”

 

“I’m not leaving, Scully!  That’s the difference!  You’re my PARTNER!  No matter what, I DON’T LEAVE!” yelled Mulder at the top of his lungs.  In the next second and one long stride, he was at her side, pulling her holster off of her hip.  He threw her gun onto the dresser.  And then he was kissing her.  He was starving.  He was dying of thirst.  If he couldn’t breathe her in, his lungs would collapse.  Scully. Oh, Scully.

 

Scully’s lips were burning from the force of his lips crushing hers; he had pulled her so tightly against him with one arm around her waist that she could feel his heart racing against her own chest.  His other hand was over her shoulder and buried in her hair.  Her pride fell away as her mouth opened to him, along with her wounded heart.

 

“I’m so sorry, Mulder.  I’m so, so sorry,” she cried, over and over again against his lips, his tongue, and finally his cheek, as his mouth left hers and he began kissing down her neck, under her ear, onto her shoulder.

 

As he pulled away and looked at her, she saw that the flame of anger in his eyes had once again gone out.  In its place were tears, his eyes like two deep green pools, threatening to overflow their banks.

 

“I didn’t even know where to start looking,” Mulder said, his voice barely cracking, as he brushed her hair away from her face with two shaking hands.

 

Scully looked up at him, abject in the knowledge that in this moment she was entirely unworthy of him.  “Can you … hold me?”

 

Scully.  Oh, Scully.  Without reservation, he took her hand and pulled her to the bed and down beside him, her back flush against his chest.  One arm under her head, the other around her waist.  He tucked his legs behind hers.

 

They remained curled together in silence for what could have been minutes, maybe it was hours.  Then Scully turned in his arms to face him, and looked into his beautiful eyes – eyes that were, even now, gazing at her with reverence.  Guilt and shame flooded through her.  She had sworn to herself so, so long ago that she would never deceive him.  She would be the one person that he could trust, unquestionably and completely.  And yet she had lied; repaying years of undying, unrelenting devotion with selfish, callous indifference.  The tears smarted painfully, as she silently begged for his forgiveness.

 

Mulder gently pushed her onto her back.  She grew completely still as he pulled the shirt over her head, and reached behind to unclasp her bra, pulling the straps down and away.  He moved to the waist band of her pants, unbuttoning and unzipping slowly and carefully.  He pulled them down and off of her legs.  Her stockings and panties followed.  She lay naked before him, watching him steadily, her expression open and completely unguarded.  Mulder sat back on his knees, and just looked at her.  His eyes caressed her -- every curve, every angle, every perfect imperfection of her body; this miraculous flawed and flawless person that had singlehandedly transformed every imaginable and unimaginable aspect of his life.  And she flushed again, knowing how completely she had failed him.

 

He leaned forward, closing his eyes.  He began kissing her; his lips and tongue moving slowly, languidly across her stomach, the soft inside of her elbows, her breasts, her neck, finally, her lips.  They parted for him, and he felt her arms lift and circle around his neck.  He opened his eyes and looked down at her.  Mulder grasped her hands and pulled them away, pushing them up above her head.  His left hand gathered her wrists and held them there.  He straddled her thighs, pinning her down.

 

He pulled the shirt off of his head, raising up on his knees long enough to unbutton his fly and pull his pants and boxers down to his knees.  She dared look away from his eyes and between them for only a second; confirming that he would not demand anything from her except her full and complete surrender.  She waited, her breathing quick pants now.

 

He reached down with his other hand, his fingers purposely and firmly parting hot, soft folds; lingering, stroking, until he had satisfied himself that he would not hurt her.  Because he was going to take her.  Now.

 

She didn’t close her eyes.  His initial thrust was complete, exact and precise.  She gasped aloud, watching his face as he concentrated, knowing the purpose of this act, permitting him to reclaim her, again and again.  As the friction heightened, Scully became acutely aware that Mulder had not spoken a word.  The only sounds in the room were those made as their bodies joined, and of their breathless lungs gasping for air.  She watched him fight for control as he finally released her hands and pulled both of her legs up against his shoulders to fill her as completely and entirely as possible.  And with that, she heard herself cry out as a whispering touch from Mulder’s fingers between her legs sent her flying over the edge.  He slowed as she finished, only to resume his original pace when her eyes fluttered open again.  She saw that he was coming, his rhythmic movement faltering as his jaw clenched.  She felt him, warm and thick.  And still he didn’t speak.  Instead, he looked deeply into her eyes, closing them only as she reached up to smooth the creases between his brows.  Those creases that still held so much fear for her.  Mulder.  Oh, Mulder.

 

Scully lowered her legs and he covered her, his forearms holding the weight of his upper body.  She lifted her head and brushed her lips softly against his.  “I don’t have an answer,” she whispered, and he watched as her eyes filled with tears again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hated En Ami during the original run. First and foremost it was completely OOC for Scully. Then, I couldn't figure out how or if it was supposed to fit into the overall mythology. It was creepy. It didn't make any sense. Welp, thanks to CC, I now loathe this flawed- on- so- many- levels/what- kind- of- sick- and- twisted- man-must-William B Davis-be/steaming-pile-of-shit/oh-yes-lets-violate-Scully--yet-again episode with every fibre of my XF MSR Dana Scully Adoring being. I've been so angry about it that I decided one day that I had to make it palatable to myself in some way, if only in my imagination.


End file.
